


It's Fine 'Cause I Feel That Too

by Tournesol



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1211227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tournesol/pseuds/Tournesol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dating Enjolras comes with many surprises.<br/>One of the things Grantaire didn’t expect from Enjolras was how tactile the man is."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Fine 'Cause I Feel That Too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greetingsprogramms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greetingsprogramms/gifts).



> greetingsprogramms gave me the following prompt from that post on tumblr "I want to be/the first thing you touch in the morning,/and the last thing you taste at night."
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://hugatreeortwo.tumblr.com).

Dating Enjolras comes with many surprises. Or rather, with the dismantlement of many a misconception. That Enjolras didn’t like him. That Enjolras was an unfeeling piece of marble. That Enjolras didn’t have a sense of humour etc.

One of the things Grantaire didn’t expect from Enjolras was how tactile the man is. Sure, he’s not big on PDA, with just a few casual touches here and there in public, but as soon as they are in the privacy of their own apartments or at any of their close knit group of friends’, Enjolras can’t seem to help but burrow himself into Grantaire, always touching, with his hand in his dark curls or sitting in front of the couch in between Grantaire’s legs, hugging them. 

Grantaire doesn’t expect it to last, he’s been reluctant to admit that Courfeyrac has been right about their unresolved sexual tension and with that thought comes the impending sense of doom that this intimacy will fade away as the newness of their relationship will.

Surely, Enjolras greeting Grantaire by pushing him against the door in a fierce kiss and wandering hands roaming under clothes will not last. Nor Enjolras lying with his head in Grantaire’s lap, holding one of his hands on lazy evenings spent reading or watching movies, or catching up on work. Nor Enjolras always slipping a hand under Grantaire’s t-shirt when they’re close to each other to touch his skin as if touching over the barrier of clothes was never enough. Grantaire hangs on to these touches like a man spending his last day on earth.

How wrong Grantaire has been and how happy he has been to be. For once. Because as months go by and to Grantaire’s utmost pleasure, Enjolras’ perpetual state of touch-starvation doesn’t abate. He seems gripped with an unquenchable thirst when it comes to Grantaire. And if Grantaire knew that they shared some sort of intellectual connection before, it feels like a heady rush to realize they share a deep physical connection as well, the kind of exciting rush you feel when you’re on a swing set and you reach the highest point, the fleeting second when you’re suspended mid air. 

The sex is intense and mind blowing and they never seem to get enough of each other, laughing it off and hoping the need to have their hands on each other like teenagers never goes away. It doesn’t. Enjolras delights in worshipping every inch of Grantaire’s body with kisses and caresses and Grantaire is overwhelmed, finding himself turned into an altar when he thought he’d only ever be a worshiper. 

It’s also the occasion for Grantaire to cross off another misconception he had about Enjolras, that he’d be reluctant to stay the night after sex or to have Grantaire over. The first time they share a bed together, at Enjolras’, Grantaire, tentative about Enjolras’ space despite the fact that post coital Enjolras proves to be a spectacular cuddler, moves to leave in the dead of the night, before falling asleep for good. He is stopped by a sleepy Enjolras tightening his grip on him and with a sleep mumbled “stay” whispered against his skin. Grantaire obliges. He has never felt so light.

That first night establishes their sleeping routine. Neither of them sleeps well and is able to stick to one side of the bed. Grantaire is restless, he talks in his sleep and spreads to take most of the space, and Enjolras kicks and tends to hog the covers. But whether Grantaire falls asleep on his stomach or his front, Enjolras always ends up in fetal position, curled against Grantaire’s side, an arm spread over Grantaire and his legs tangled with Grantaire’s. It’s perfect in the cold winter nights and makes the hot summer nights spent with the window open unbearable. Still, waking up in the middle of the night doesn’t feel as bad as it used to when they can feel the press of the other’s body, when wandering hands are met with warm skin, a potent sense of comfort and relief washes over them, like the light of a lighthouse reaching you in a stormed night at sea. And if it leads to wandering hands pushing clothes aside and Enjolras spread out under Grantaire, with his hands clutched in Grantaire’s over his head, the better for it. They find words to be superfluous when they make their gasps and the wet sounds of open mouthed kisses into a language shared by the two of them alone. 

Mornings are spent in a similar fashion, neither of them speaks before coffee and breakfast have been ingested, but a sleep ruffled Enjolras will hug Grantaire from behind while he’s shaving, not moving and make this a hazard. During breakfast, Enjolras will nudge his feet against Grantaire’s ankle, and when he thinks about it Grantaire cannot believe how domestic they are and how pleasantly surprised he is by this because he never thought it would be like this, that he’d get this privilege.

They end up moving in together, it seems inevitable really, what with them not spending a night apart. They move out of their respective places into a bigger apartment, allowing them to live together but still having enough personal space not to be in each other’s hair. 

One of the marvelous upsides of the new apartment is the tub in the bathroom, and Grantaire almost considers believing in the existence of multiple gods when Enjolras asks him to share a bath with him on a hot summer night. They keep the window open as the air is still furnace hot and sit facing each other in the tub. Enjolras can’t sit still for an extended period of time so he’s grabbed a book on the Enlightenment, Grantaire only his cigarettes and his lighter because a bath and Enjolras and cigarettes prompt for decadence.  
When Grantaire lights his cigarette, Enjolras peers over his book to give Grantaire his almighty frown and chides Grantaire about the habit which he declares to be _disgusting and hazardous for their health and would he please throw the damn thing_ , Grantaire just grins before replying _make me_ , challenge in the tone of his voice, and ducking his head under water to escape Enjolras’ scolding. The book is quickly discarded, the cigarette extinguished by splashes of water and maybe Grantaire’s intent was never to smoke that cigarette after all, because if he ends up under Enjolras with his mouth on his and their slick bodies moving against each other with half of the bath water on the floor, neither of them seems to care, they feel young and careless.

They still fight of course. It seems inevitable considering their natures and the way they both handle pressure and stress by lashing out at each other. Grantaire storms out to cool off at Éponine’s for a few days for the worst of them, though he always texts Enjolras to tell him where he goes. They need the space sometimes but they end up missing each other terribly, Grantaire having grown unused not to start and end his days with Enjolras pressed against him. When Éponine has had enough of the brooding and after receiving a report from Combeferre that Enjolras is no better, she throws Grantaire out. 

For the first time in his life Grantaire feels the need to come back to the only place he’s ever think of as home. He finds Enjolras looking not much better than he does, and clad in one of his paint-stained sweaters. They don’t say anything, just walk with intent towards each other and wrap their arms around each other in a bone crushing embrace which lasts for a long time, grounded by the feel of the warm breath of the other on their necks. After a while Enjolras tugs him to the bedroom. There’ll be time for words later, right now the craving for the feel of the other’s skin is more urgent, their bodies seek forgiveness for a time spent too long apart first.


End file.
